


Golden Eagles and Crimson Winds

by BombshellBlondie



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, High School Drama, Multi, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Secret Identity, Trust Issues, edelaude is valid but I might straight bait y'all i haven't decided yet, now get ready for: politics disguised as flirting, you've heard of flirting disguised as politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29883141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BombshellBlondie/pseuds/BombshellBlondie
Summary: After the events of Abyss, Edelgard begins to see Claude as less of a threat and more as a potential ally. Unfortunately, the only student at Garreg Mach with more trust issues than Edelgard von Hresvelg is Claude von Riegan.The joint Golden Deer/Black Eagles route we deserve.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	Golden Eagles and Crimson Winds

For Edelgard, most of the Abyss “field trip” had been spent dissociating. The only alternative would have been to freak out, which Edelgard von Hresvelg did not do, because Edelgard von Hresvelg was a cold, calculating, certified Bad Bitch who feared not even the Goddess herself. It didn’t matter that Abyss had everything in common with the dungeons she’d spent the early part of her adolescence in (except for the smell, which was the slightly more pleasant aroma of human waste as opposed to death), because Edelgard was not in Abyss. She was nowhere, floating somewhere in a void while her body went through the motions of swinging about her axe and saying Normal Human Things when spoken to.

“This is wrong.”

Claude’s words were the first thing in hours that managed to break Edelgard out of the trance she’d put herself in. They were in the library, Claude tearing through the books and documents that lined the shelves while Edelgard stood staring at the page of an open book and reading none of it. She couldn’t remember why she’d come in here in the first place. It must have been to look for Linhardt, for even as much as he infuriated her, he was the most familiar face. Linhardt wasn’t here. Claude was. The book in Edelgard’s hands wasn’t even in Fodlish.

She looked up in time to see Claude clap the book he’d been reading closed with surprising ferocity, coughing when the motion blew who-knows-how-many years of dust back in his face. Edelgard watched him scowl and scratch his nose. He was angry. The ever-suave, laid-back Claude von Riegan was _angry_.

Seven months ago, when Edelgard had first met Claude, it had taken her less than a minute to decide she didn’t like him. He was a goof-off, a prankster, someone who didn’t take anything seriously. Another noble with a title he didn’t earn, another noble unconcerned with anyone else except for what benefits they could bring him. That he had immediately gotten chummy with _Hilda Goneril_ of all people further solidified that assumption.

“How can…” he mumbled to himself, rapidly twisting and untwisting the braid of hair at his temple around one finger, “how can they justify leaving all these innocent people down here to rot? There are _kids_ down here! People have been born and lived and died without knowing anything else but this crypt—and why? Because their existence would be inconvenient for the church? Is that really all it takes to be labeled a criminal in the eyes of the Goddess?”

Perhaps that assumption had been wrong.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this angry,” she said, absently. Claude noticed her then, and the look he fixed her with was nothing short of offended.

“Of _course_ I’m angry, how are you and Dimitri _not_?” he asked. “Why doesn’t anyone here but me seem to realize how messed up it is that this place even exists?”

“No, I… I agree with you. I am angry. It’s a terrible injustice. I didn’t mean to imply it was not,” she said carefully. “I’ve just never known you to get so worked up over anything.”

He laughed at that, but it was sharp, as if the sound had been punched out of him. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Princess.” He shoved the book under his arm and returned to the shelves to pick out another one. Her eyes followed him across the dingy library, intrigued.

For the first time, Edelgard saw the heir to the Alliance not only as a potential threat, but a potential ally.

There was, indeed, a lot that Edelgard did not know about Claude von Riegan. Even more frustrating, it seemed that there was a lot _no one_ knew about Claude von Riegan. He’d shown up a little over a year ago bearing a Minor Crest of Riegan, and the Duke had claimed him as his grandson. The only thing of note about his origin was that there was nothing _to_ note. Even Hubert’s spies were unable to track down any additional information. It was as if Claude von Riegan had simply appeared out of thin air, magically conjured as a fully functional teenage boy with the Crest of Riegan and no past.

Nearly a month passed in vain. The Black Eagles trudged back from Gronder Field nursing bruised egos. The march home was split in two, with a night spent camping in the north of Bergliez. While their professors met for their “review meeting” (which seemed to just be an excuse to drink alcohol around the fire), the students were left in their own camps to their own devices. Still high off their victory, the Golden Deer camp was the noisiest of them all. It made them quite easy to spy on. Edelgard and Hubert crouched in the bushes just beyond the camp’s perimeter. Claude, the egomaniac, was entertaining his classmates by repeatedly lunging over their large campfire and daring the others to try it.

“If you don’t think he’s a threat, I would suggest we let it slide for now,” Hubert suggested. “We are spread too thin. There are far more pressing matters we must attend to.”

Leonie was the only one to take Claude up on his dare. She cleared the flames easily.

“I’m not content with him simply not being a threat—I want him as an ally,” said Edelgard. “There’s potential there—not only in his assistance, but in the connections he could provide. Think of how much more we could accomplish if the Alliance were on our side as well.”

Claude leapt again. His foot caught the tip of a smoldering log on the upward bound and sent sparks flying.

“Whether he allies with us or not, I don’t believe he holds enough power that we could gamble on his whole country coming with him,” said Hubert. “Duke Riegan is still alive, the Leicester Alliance is hardly a unified nation, and his position within it is _tentative_ at best. It may be more trouble than it is worth.”

On the next bound, Claude’s cape caught fire during the fall. His classmates began to scream.

“If the Alliance were all we stood to gain, I would agree with you,” Edelgard said. “But there’s one more vital asset his allyship may afford us.”

Professor Byleth rushed over to check on her screaming students, who were now emptying their canteens on their house leader haphazardly. With no show of emotion beyond exasperation, the professor snatched the cape, ripped it from his shoulders, and stomped the fire out in the dirt. The Sword of the Creator jostled at her hip with every motion.

“…ah,” said Hubert.

Edelgard nodded. “The Sword of the Creator is our biggest threat. If she is fighting for us, we both eliminate that threat and increase our own strength. Perhaps we would not even need to rely so much on my uncle.”

A silence stretched on between them. Hubert frowned, as he so often did. Claude, soaking wet, was attempting to explain his stupid game to the professor, who looked only as if she needed another drink.

“It’s risky,” Hubert admitted, finally. “I don’t like it.”

“That’s why we need more information. Something to prove he has more reason to join us than to oppose us,” said Edelgard. “He’s hiding his identity for a reason. If we figure out what that reason is, we’ll more accurately be able to assess the risk of soliciting him.”

“If you wish for me to continue the investigation, I will. But without a proper lead...”

“I’ll find one,” she said. “Return to business as usual, just keep an ear turned towards the Alliance. I’ll see what I can get him to give up himself. It’s high time I got to know him better, anyway.”

Somehow, Professor Byleth had been goaded into joining the game. Her students clapped and cheered in an uproar as she cleared the fire by over a foot on either side.

“Very well,” Hubert said. “Consider it done.”

On a normal day, Edelgard ate lunch with Hubert, Dorothea, and Petra at the table second from the back on the far side of the dining hall. The other Eagles had their usual spots as well. Ferdinand always ate with Lorenz, occasionally joined by the sons of one or more minor noble houses. Caspar and Linhardt ate together as they did most things—or rather, Caspar ate and Linhardt napped with his face pressed ineloquently to the table. Bernadetta usually snuck back to her room, where Edelgard would have to find her and drag her back for afternoon classes.

Claude’s lunch table was the one that saw the most variation. Hilda was a constant, and Leonie was often there as well. The other Golden Deer—save Lorenz—and a select few of the Blue Lions seemed to rotate through in pre-determined combinations depending on their moods. If Lysithea was there, Annette and Mercedes usually were too. If Raphael was there, so was Ignatz. Marianne was missing from the dining hall entirely more often than not, but when she did eat lunch, it was while plastered to Hilda’s side.

Today, by some stroke of luck, it was only Hilda and Claude. He said something with an easy smile and Hilda laughed. Edelgard’s grip tightened around the edges of her plate. This was as good an opportunity as any. She pulled out the chair directly to Claude’s left and seated herself. The chatter paused—not just that of her new table companions, but of the surrounding tables as well, as if they were expecting a confrontation. All eyes were on her. Edelgard remained poised.

“Hello,” she said.

Claude blinked once before that lazy smile returned and he leant back in his seat. “Hello, Princess. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Tension broken, the other students turned back to their own conversations. Only Claude and Hilda’s attention remained on her. Edelgard finally breathed. “I thought that, after what we experienced together these last few months, we should get to know each other better.”

“You mean the Abyss thing, or the getting your butts kicked at the Battle of Eagle and Lion thing?” he asked. Cheeky.

“The former,” Edelgard replied, “but I won’t pretend I wasn’t impressed by the latter. That professor of yours really is something.”

Claude’s smile faltered, and—wait, was that a _pout_?

“The professor is good, don’t get me wrong, but the Battle of Eagle and Lion? That was alllllll Claude,” Hilda said, leaning on the table with her elbows. “She made him lead the strategy meetings all month, something about…” she paused to put on a comically blank face, “ _If Professor Manuela and Professor Hanneman aren’t participating, then I should sit out too_.”

“Is that so?” said Edelgard. “And here I’d been thinking you didn’t know how to be serious. I never would have guessed you were such an impressive tactician.”

Claude laughed. “I tried to warn you, Princess; there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Edelgard hummed around a bite of her lunch. She swallowed and dabbed her mouth with her napkin before saying, light enough to be in jest, “Have you ever considered defecting? We could use skill like that in the Empire.”

“Are you suggesting I commit _treason_ , Your Highness?” Claude’s grin gave away his mock gasp of offense. “And so boldly, too! Alas, I’m afraid I can’t just abandon my grandfather like that. I’m all the poor man has left, you know.”

“So I’ve heard—a shame, really,” said Edelgard. “Quite convenient for him that you appeared out of nowhere so suddenly, wasn’t it?”

Technically, the smile on Claude’s face did not falter this time, but what little of it he kept in his eyes quickly dropped out of it, until the expression he’d fixed her with was hollow. “I prefer to think of it as luck,” he said, “or maybe fate.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” Edelgard said. “I find it depressing to think that our free will may be an illusion, that every choice we ever make has been planned in advance.”

“That is an unsurprisingly pessimistic opinion you have there, Princess,” Claude said, his shoulders relaxed slightly.

So, she really _had_ struck a nerve, had she? “On the contrary, I find the absence of fate to be the more optimistic possibility. It gives us full control over our lives.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I fully believe we have control of our choices,” Claude said, “but maybe fate is what brings those choices to us.”

“ _Oh my gosh,_ are you two even listening to yourselves?” Hilda cut in, as if to remind them she was there. “This is _way_ too existential for a Monday afternoon. Can we please talk about something normal?”

“Aw come on, Hilda, you don’t find this conversation riveting?” Claude teased.

“Ugh, _no,_ ” she said. “I think you’d both be a little less stressed out if you stopped spending so much time thinking about stuff that doesn't matter.”

“Fair enough, we’ll agree to disagree,” said Edelgard. “But tell me then, Claude, how did you find that _fate_ brought you to be Duke Riegan’s heir?”

That hollow smile was back in an instant. Claude sat with his arms open and relaxed, but somehow, he still managed to come off as defensive. “Same way it brought me to have this Crest, I suppose,” he said. “Without it, I doubt I would have been able to prove myself a legitimate heir.”

That was a non-answer, but it still left her with an opening. “You had no one willing to vouch for you?”

“ _Gods_ no—my mother was furious with me, actually,” he said. “I don’t think this is the life she wanted for me. She wouldn’t have run off in the first place if it were.”

“So, your connection to House Riegan is on your mother’s side?”

Claude winced almost imperceptibly, as if he’d given away more than he’d intended to. “That’s right.”

“What is your father’s occupation?”

“He’s a hunter,” he answered, too quickly.

“They _eloped_ ,” Hilda added gleefully. “A noble lady leaving it all behind for love, isn’t that romantic?”

Edelgard raised an eyebrow. Perhaps there _was_ someone who knew a little more about Claude von Riegan. “It’s certainly quite the tale. Dorothea would love it; it’s like something out of an opera.”

“Isn’t it though?” Hilda sighed. “I mean, you’d never catch _me_ doing that for some guy, but it’s a pretty story.”

“Ah yes, my mother is quite the outlier,” Claude said. “But enough about me—what interest does the Princess of Adrestia have in the dramas of the Leicester Alliance, anyway?”

“We share a border. A ruler should know the general goings-on of her neighboring states, should she not?” Edelgard said easily. “Forgive my curiosity, but your arrival caused such a stir in the Alliance that a bit of it spilled over the Airmid.”

“Curiosity forgiven,” Claude said, though she was sure he didn’t mean it.

The bell signaling the end of lunch period rang shortly thereafter, and the students began to reluctantly file out of the dining hall to afternoon classes. Claude excused himself and Hilda with his usual charm, but there was a new urgency in his step that was not lost on Edelgard.

The Black Eagles had combat drills on Monday afternoons, fortunately—Edelgard found it easier to think when her hands were busy. Ever since Jertiza had been exposed ( _idiot_ ), drill days had been less structured. Professor Manuela flittered about the training grounds, guiding her students where she could, but Edelgard’s skill with an axe had long since passed her professor’s. Manuela would check on her every so often to reminder her to loosen up or take a break, but otherwise Edelgard was allowed to train independently.

The _Black Eagles_ had combat drills on Monday afternoons, meaning the other two classes did _not_. So, it was unexpected when, out of the corner of her eye, Edelgard noticed a pair of pink pigtails skipping across the training grounds towards her.

“Hi Edelgard,” Hilda greeted her cheerily.

Edelgard lowered her axe. “Hello,” she said. “Is there something I can help you with…?”

“Actually, I think there’s something I can help _you_ with,” said Hilda, leaning in conspiratorially. “Would I be correct to assume you’ve never flirted with a guy before?”

Edelgard blinked. “I’m… sorry?”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, just based on what I saw at lunch today, you know, I figured you could use a little help,” Hilda continued. “You’ve got the confidence and the attitude down, but I think your, ah… conversation topics could use a little work.”

“…I’m honestly not sure what you’re talking about,” said Edelgard. “I wasn’t—”

“Who do you think you’re fooling?” she teased. “Word of advice, the quickest way to get on Claude’s bad side is to ask him too many questions about his ties to House Riegan. He’s _real_ sensitive about the whole thing. If you want him to like you, you need to make him feel _safe_ with you—that’s true of any guy, honestly, but Claude _especially_.”

“I think you’re mistaken,” Edelgard said. “I wasn’t _flirting_ with Claude.”

Hilda cocked her head to the side. “No?”

“ _No_ ,” she stressed.

“Hmm, too bad. Here I thought we were going to have some interesting personal drama around here for once,” Hilda shrugged. “Oh well! Forget I said anything. I’ll let you get back to it then.” She turned on her heel, pink pigtails bouncing behind her as she made to exit the training grounds.

It occurred to Edelgard suddenly that turning Hilda down may have been a mistake. Claude and Hilda were close. She had known his parents had eloped, what _else_ might she know that no one else did? Hilda may have misunderstood her intentions, but who was to say Edelgard couldn’t work that misunderstanding in her favor? It was perhaps the most asinine method of reconnaissance Edelgard could imagine, but if it could get her more intel on Claude von Riegan without rousing suspicion…

“W-wait,” she called after her.

Hilda stopped mid-skip and turned to face her with a knowing smile. “Yes?”

“I’ll keep what you said in mind,” said Edelgard. “And... if you happen to have any other insights into his character, I’d be interested to know more.”

Hilda strolled back over, inspecting her own nails casually. “So… you’re saying you _do_ want my help… _courting_ him?”

Heat rushed to Edelgard’s face as she desperately tried to keep the rest of her dignity from slipping through her fingers. “I would… value your advice, as someone who has already earned his trust.”

Hilda laughed. “I wouldn’t go _that_ far. We’re friends, sure, but I don’t think he trusts _anyone_ completely. Not even I know what his real story is.”

Edelgard quirked an eyebrow. “His _real_ story?” 

Hilda twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Like I said, he’s _sensitive_ about it. He’s told me a couple of stories about his parents, but nothing really definitive. I don’t even know the name of the village he supposedly grew up in,” she said. “I guess I _kind of_ believe his dad might be a hunter; Leonie’s is too, and he seems to have more in common with her than he does with, like, me or Lorenz, but…”

“But…?”

“I dunno? Okay, this is going to sound _really_ rude, but he’s too… _smart_ to have been raised a commoner, you know?”

“You’re right,” Edelgard agreed, “that does sound rude.”

“I know, I know, but you know what I mean? He uses big words and reads too much and he’s _stupid_ good at chess,” Hilda said. “I dunno where the son of a hunter would find the _time_ to get so good at board games and philosophical analysis, is all I’m saying.”

“You think he’s lying about that?”

Hilda shrugged. “Maybe? But I don’t see why he would need to. There’s a lot of speculation about him in the Alliance—you know how Lorenz is like, obsessed with him?”

Edelgard did not know, until this point having paid a sum of zero attention to the internal politics of the Golden Deer, but decided to nod anyway.

“That’s because lots of people still don’t think he’s actually a legitimate heir to House Riegan,” Hilda continued. “But, like, he’s got a Crest, right? So isn’t that proof enough? It’s not like there’s any _other_ way he could have gotten the Crest of Riegan without inheriting it, right?”

A chill ran down Edelgard’s spine. She could think of _several_ other ways, actually—just none that would have allowed him to keep that dark brown hair. Although, if he only had _one_ …

Well, that was an angle to explore.

“Right,” Edelgard lied.

“Anyway, I’m sure whatever his full story is, it’s _really_ interesting,” said Hilda, “but I haven’t heard it, and in the interest of remaining his friend, I’ve decided it’s not that important to know. And if _you’re_ interested in being his friend… or something more,” she paused here to wink, “you should probably decide the same.”

It was sage advice that Edelgard had absolutely no interest in following. If anything, this little conversation had only made her _more_ curious as to where exactly Claude’s Crest of Riegan had come from. The Agarthans had gotten their foot in the door of the Alliance years before they’d sunk their wretched claws into Edelgard and her siblings. The children of House Ordelia had been a trial run, but who was to say there hadn’t been _more_ trials? And if that were the case… was Claude “von Riegan” a victim, a willing pawn, or, like Edelgard herself, both?

“…Thank you, Hilda,” she said. “As expected, your insight has been extremely valuable.”

Hilda giggled. “Glad to hear it! Let me know if you ever need any…”

“Miss Goneril! Shouldn’t you be in class?” Professor Manuela strode over to them.

“Oh, Professor Manuela!” Hilda said in that voice she reserved exclusively for manipulating authority figures. “Sorry, I guess I must have gotten my schedule mixed up again!”

Manuela put one hand on her hip and used the other to snatch Hilda by the ear. “You’ll need a better excuse than that to fool me, young lady. Come on, I’ll escort you back to your professor.” She turned to Edelgard then, “Watch over your classmates for me while I’m gone, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Edelgard nodded, and Professor Manuela turned to drag Hilda away. Hilda managed to turn back just long enough to shoot Edelgard a wink, and then they were gone.

Rather than watching over her classmates, Edelgard returned to her training and her thoughts. She couldn’t deny that Hilda had a point. Taking a direct approach with Claude hadn’t gotten her anywhere; if anything, it had made him reinforce his defenses. Claude did not wear a physical mask—there was no Flame Emperor to his Edelgard, as far as she knew—but he wore a mask all the same. Going in and trying to rip it off would only make him secure it more tightly. It had to be eased off of him. Perhaps if she followed Hilda’s advice and made him feel safe with her, he would even remove it of his own volition.

On that note, the next step would be to issue an apology.

She managed to find him in the library that evening, nose buried in a book titled _Saint Seiros and the War of Heroes_. He looked up at the sound of her footsteps and placed his thumb between the pages before closing the book around it. Green eyes locked with hers as she sat down across from him, curious.

“Something I can help you with, Princess?” he whispered out of respect for the library’s other patrons.

“No, I simply wished to apologize for lunch today,” she whispered back. “I’m afraid my curiosity may have come off as… intrusive.”

“Is that all? No worries, I’m not bothered by it,” he lied. “I know I’m a hot topic of conversation—people just can’t stop talking about me.”

“You aren’t as hard to read as you seem to think,” said Edelgard. “I could tell it bothered you, yet I continued to pry anyway. It was rude. I should know how frustrating it is to be the topic of others’ speculation.”

Claude quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? Is there so much speculation about the Princess of Adrestia?”

“Not of the same kind there is about you, but there is enough,” she said.

“Interesting,” he slipped a bookmark—a thin leather strap with a gold feather on the end—into his book and closed it, resting one elbow on its cover and propping up his chin with the same hand. “I knew you must have some secrets of your own, but I didn’t know they were big enough that others would be curious about them as well.”

“Does that mean _you’re_ curious about me?”

“Of course,” his eyes twinkled. “It’s only fair, seeing as you’re so curious about _me_.”

“I can’t deny that,” Edelgard said. “We both know what I find curious about you, though. What do you find so curious about me?”

“It’s nothing _about_ you, per say. You could say I’m most curious to discover how one goes about earning your friendship,” he said. “Sometimes I feel like I’m squandering a brilliant opportunity here. For as important as the three of us are to Fodlan’s future, you, me, and His Princeliness are not _nearly_ chummy enough.”

“Friendship?” Edelgard repeated. She hadn’t expected it to be this easy. “You want to be friends.”

“Yep,” said Claude. “And based on the fact that you came to apologize to me for a perceived slight, I feel like I’m safe to assume the feeling is mutual.”

“Well… yes,” Edelgard said. “It feels childish to say it, though.”

Claude cocked his head to the side. “To say what?”

“To ask if you want to be friends, obviously,” she said. “I thought adults were supposed to form friendships more… naturally.”

“Ah, but we aren’t _quite_ adults yet, are we?”

“Perhaps _you_ aren’t.”

Claude laughed out loud. One of the monks shot a glare and a harsh _Shh!_ over her shoulder at him. “Naturally-formed or no, I think we’re off to a _great_ start,” he whispered. “We should talk like this more often.”

Edelgard’s mouth ticked up in a small smile. “We should, maybe some place that doesn’t require perfect silence. As it stands, I’ve heard we have a shared hobby in chess. Perhaps we could play a game sometime.”

"You’ve heard correctly. But are you sure that’s an activity you want to commit to with me, Princess?” he asked. “I don’t normally make a habit of bragging, but I feel as if it’s only fair to warn you: I am an _excellent_ chess player.”

“So I’ve heard,” she said. “I’m curious as to whether or not you could prove it, though.”

There was a glint in Claude’s eyes. He leant back in his chair with his arms crossed behind his head. An open posture. Confident. Cocky.

“Very well, Princess,” he said, “your new friend Claude von Riegan accepts your challenge.”

And so began the establishment of an informal chess club, the only members being the two of them. Edelgard did not win every match, but she did not lose every match either. Claude often employed strategies she’d never encountered before, but her own careful tactics seemed to throw him off just as often. They met at least once a week—at first in the courtyard at the academy, then in the reception hall once the first snowfall forced them inside.

Edelgard spared hardly a thought for what it must look like to their peers, from an outside perspective. It was reconnaissance; regular meetings provided her with an excellent opportunity to expand her library of knowledge about Claude von Riegan. His favorite color was green. He loved spicy food. Not only was he an excellent chess player, he was even better at a number of other board games Edelgard had never heard of. He frequently finished entire books in one sitting. He loved wyverns almost as much as Ferdinand loved horses. He didn’t know how to climb trees or keep his room clean. He had decidedly _not_ been subjected to blood experiments at the hands of Those Who Slither in the Dark.

That final fact had taken her much longer to be certain of, but, after many a lunch break and chess match spent together, she _was_ certain of it. The Agarthans were good at keeping detailed records of their experiments, and Hubert was good at dissecting them for information. As far as he could confirm, there was no record of a recipient of Riegan blood who both A.) survived and B.) matched Claude’s description.

The final nail in that theory’s proverbial coffin, however, had been Claude’s behavior; he was simply too _proud_ of his Crest for it to have been the result of experimentation. Not that there was a substantial sample size, but in Edelgard’s experience, those who had Crests forced upon them through torture did not tend to be _happy_ about having them. By contrast, Claude’s only complaint about his Crest seemed to be that he wasn’t being allowed to use it _enough_. He’d brought up House Riegan’s relic—the bow _Failnaught_ —during more than one of their now routine chess games. His eyes downright _sparkled_ when he spoke of it, as if he were talking about a work of art rather than an ancient weapon capable of unspeakable destruction. If Edelgard were being honest, she found it distasteful. It seemed that, to a certain extent, Duke Riegan shared her perspective.

“Count Gloucester gave Lorenz Thyrsus back during Wyvern Moon, right? And so, I sent a letter to my grandfather about it, hinting that _maybe_ he should give me Failnaught, too,” he said, picking up a pawn and moving it two spaces ahead, “and you know what he wrote back? _Dear Claude, Please extend my congratulations to young Lorenz—_ that’s _it!_ Like he didn’t even _acknowledge_ my request.”

“Clearly he doesn’t think you’re prepared to wield it,” Edelgard replied, collecting Claude’s pawn and replacing it with her rook.

“As if Lorenz _is_?” Claude countered. “My grandfather’s entire reasoning is that he thinks I’m ‘too arrogant’ to wield it yet—as if Lorenz isn’t the most arrogant bastard on the _planet_.”

“I’m afraid I don’t really understand what qualifies one to wield a Hero’s Relic apart from the appropriate Crest,” said Edelgard. “My family does not possess one, after all.”

Claude hummed thoughtfully, then took Edelgard’s rook with one of his knights. Shit. “None of the families in the Empire do, right? Seems like it’s kind of a Kingdom-and-Alliance-Only Club.”

Edelgard frowned at the chess board and responded absentmindedly, “There’s a reason for that, historically.”

“Because the Empire was fighting on the side of Saint Seiros during the War of Heroes, right?” he said. Edelgard nodded, moving a pawn ahead to block his knight’s advance as he continued. “It’s strange though, isn’t it? If the Goddess gifted the relics to Nemesis and the Ten Elites in the first place, why wouldn’t She provide the side of the war supposedly fighting for _Her_ with the same power?”

“Good question. I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you,” she said. “Maybe the Goddess wasn’t watching over Fodlan at that time. Or perhaps She never existed at all, and the Heroes Relics were a purely human invention.”

Claude laughed, “Careful, Princess, you’re coming _dangerously_ close to blasphemy there.”

“I could give you the same warning. You hardly use the proper amount of reverence expected when speaking about the Goddess,” she said.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” said Claude. “I see the appeal of having faith, of looking to the Goddess for spiritual guidance, but I just can’t reconcile it with my own beliefs.”

Edelgard raised one eyebrow. “Which are…?”

“Closer to yours than to Rhea’s, I’m guessing,” he winked, and took his remaining knight through a path Edelgard hadn’t even realized she’d left open. “Check.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this for MONTHS and this is the only chapter I'm ready to post yet sobs. Hoping that posting it will motivate me to keep editing the next 2 chapters I already have mostly thrown together.


End file.
